


Reparations

by stele3



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Body Horror, Death, Gen, Post-Movie, Spoilers, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stele3/pseuds/stele3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers in summary:<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>*<br/>My immediate thought at the end of <i>Serenity</i> was, who went up to the cockpit and got Wash's body out? Because I am morbid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reparations

It took two gorram hours just to get everyone into sick bay. Inara was the best off and Kaylee'd stopped turning blue after they got the antidote out of the doc's bag, but the doc had a round in his gut, Zoe had a six-inch gash right over her spine, Mal was a punching bag and a pin cushion, and Jayne...  
  
Jayne strapped a splint and a round of bandages to his leg then slowly, painfully made his way up to the cockpit.  
  
In the hatch he wavered then leaned against the wall, one hand gripping the lip of the ceiling above him. He beat his other hand there once, then twice.  
  
" _Ai ya_ ," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut then forcing them open again, taking in the scene before him.  
  
Wash was slumped forward, held up only by the spike of metal through his chest and the pilot's chair. A cerem alloy, from the red glint of it.   
  
Turning, Jayne limped his way back down through the torn-up body of the ship. It was a mess all over, tools scattered across the floor, food splattered on the walls of the kitchen. In the cargo hold he had to set a shoulder against a loose crate, gritting against the pain that shot up through his hip as he heaved. The crate lifted but wouldn't slide and he had to hop, cursing and twisting it sideways to get it out of the way. The torch's main tank was still wedged, dangerously, between the outer doors and the hover-mule.  
  
One thing at a gorram time.  
  
On his way back through the ship, Jayne paused at the door of the sick bay and poked his head inside. Apparently Inara had got the doc to stop bleeding because he was back on his feet, wincing his way around the room and throwing out orders while Inara trailed after, mebbe regretting her choice to fix him up first. Mal sure looked like he did: he sat on a sickbed, his legs dangling on either side of the corner and his hand pressed tight against his side. His eyes, one bloodshot, tracked the doc like an owner minding his screwball dog--irritated, a little weary, but still inclined to keep it around. Zoe was propped up in the other bed, her face slack as if she'd been drugged; Jayne hoped to hell she had. Kaylee sat in the doc's chair, taking slow even breaths like she wanted to savor the experience. River wasn't nowhere.  
  
Or she was, once Jayne got back up to the cockpit.  
  
She stood between the two control stations, her back to the hatch and her head turned towards Wash. In the dim light her profile was vague, blending into the darkness around her.  
  
"Like a tree," she said.  
  
Jayne gritted his teeth again. "Better get outta my way, girlie." He let the torch spark loud as it lit.  
  
She turned her head slightly to look at him. The torch light reflected in her eyes. "Not a girlie."  
  
Jayne swallowed and shifted his grip on the torch. The shadows moved around them and River seemed to follow them, stepping gracefully around the edge of the console and past the pilot's chair. She tipped her hips sideways to avoid the protruding spike.  
  
Reaching the other side, she turned and stood with her back to the wall and fixed him with a steady look. "What's the work?" she asked.  
  
Jayne eyed her a minute then cranked the torch up a few notches. "Hold the chair."  
  
It took another hour to burn through the base of the pilot chair but it woulda took twice as long to get through a cerem spike. When it finally came loose the stump of the base came off its mount and thunked loudly on the floor. Jayne rolled out from 'neath it, killing the torch, and clambered to his feet. Or tried to, at first: he forgot about this leg for a moment and _fay-fay duh pee-yen_ that hurt.  
  
Once he could breathe without snarling he peeled his eyes open and found River braced, her arms trembling as she held the full weight of the chair, and Wash, in place. She was watching him, waiting without a trace of impatience.  
  
Hopping forward, Jayne took the other side of the chair. "Awright. Awright, back. And--go."  
  
The chair's jagged base scraped against the floor horribly as they pushed, metal shrieking on metal and making Jayne's skin crawl like a pilvoc slug. Worse, though, were the wet sounds that Wash's body made as it slid down the spike. His guts had congealed to the metal and they didn't want to let go. Jayne pinched his eyes and nose square shut and kept pushing.  
  
They got to the end and in silent agreement eased the chair down to rest on its back. Wash's head lolled back. His eyes were still open.  
  
They knelt in silence over him for a long moment, Jayne with his bad leg stuck out to the side. River breathed unsteady. He didn't look her way. "Need a blanket," he said finally.  
  
River rose and stepped carefully past them. Once she was out the hatch Jayne reached down and slowly, carefully, pushed Wash's eyelids closed with his fingertips.  
  
"Blanket," River said at his shoulder sometime later. Jayne straightened and reached for the buckles of Wash's chair.  
  
They carried him back down through the ship, River walking backwards at his head and Jayne limping at his feet. Inara met them halfway down, like she'd just realized, and made a noise like a cat that'd had its tail cut off. A snarl rose in Jayne's throat but then she only took a corner of their makeshift stretcher and shuffle-stepped with them back, back, past the bunks, past the kitchen and past the sick bay. Zoe must've seen them go by, because Mal's voice rose loud and sharp, the tone of a commander getting his troops in line. Jayne hated him a little bit, in that moment, in the little part of his brain that wasn't occupied with _not_ falling down the stairs on his face, or Wash.  
  
They made it down to the cargo bay and laid him out on the cold metal floor. Either Mal had cut Zoe loose by then or she'd made the cut herself, because she came down the stairs and knelt beside him, pulling one limp arm into her lap. Inara had quickly thrown a corner of the blanket across his wounds and now she reached for Zoe, dropping beside her with tears in her eyes.  
  
River stood at Jayne's shoulder--against his shoulder, actually, right where he was listing. His leg shook like it might give out at any moment.  
  
"Not like a leaf," he heard her murmur. "Like a tree."


End file.
